


Grown-Up Business

by pearl_o



Series: Carrie-fic [4]
Category: due South
Genre: Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-10-21
Updated: 2004-10-21
Packaged: 2017-10-27 09:57:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/294477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearl_o/pseuds/pearl_o
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>750 words of F/K, taking place in the same universe as How Many Ways, as per the request of aerye and reginagiraffe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grown-Up Business

When Ray picked her up from school, Carrie insisted on walking apart from him, but after a block or so she changed her mind, taking one of his hands to hold and handing him a pile of papers to hold in the other.

"Did you miss me while I was at school?" Carrie said, tugging at him.

"I was counting the minutes you were gone," Ray said.

Carrie nodded. "Did Dief miss me?"

"He was out with Dad today, working. You'll have to ask Dad when he gets home."

She mulled this over for a few steps, then said, "Are you and Dad mad at each other?"

"Why do you want to know?" Ray said, glancing down at her.

"Dief said you had a fight."

Ray snorted. "You don't have to listen to everything he says, you know."

"Are you going to get a divorce?" Carrie's voice sounded more curious than concerned.

"No," Ray said firmly.

"Magda's parents used to fight and then her parents got a divorce and her dad moved to Winnipeg."

"When you got mad at Dief for eating all your birthday cake, did we make him move to Winnipeg?"

"No," Carrie said thoughtfully.

"Nobody's going anywhere," Ray said. They were almost back to the house. He stopped and squatted down to Carrie's level, and she looked back at him with wide eyes. "Look, Carrie, there are things that are grown-up business and things that are kid business. And things that are grown-up business mean your dad and I worry about them and we take care of them. So you don't have to worry about them. When there's stuff for you to worry about, we'll tell you. Okay?"

Carrie nodded, and Ray smiled at her and yanked her pigtails before he stood up and they started walking again.

* * *

"Your wolf's been spreading rumors again," Ray said, resting his hip against the kitchen counter.

"Strictly speaking, he's not *my* wolf," Fraser said from the pantry. He emerged from it, carrying an armful of potatoes and onions, which he dumped on the counter.

"Whatever. The point is, I got your daughter asking me this afternoon if we're getting a divorce," Ray said. He scowled. "What kind of name is Magda, anyway?"

"Northern European, I believe." Fraser scrubbed firmly at the potatoes, not looking over at Ray. "And that's silly, Ray. We're not technically married."

"Bzzzt!" Ray said. "Wrong answer."

Fraser frowned to himself and moved onto cutting the potatoes into tiny even slices. "You know, I have my doubts that she is actually in communication with Diefenbaker. I'm inclined to think what's behind her claims is more a combination of imitation of the two of us and the same urge that leads children of her age to imaginary friends."

"Us? I don't talk to Dief."

Fraser still didn't look over at him, but Ray could see him roll his eyes. "Fine, then. Imitation of me."

"Besides which," Ray said, moving around the counter to stand closer to him, "you are missing the point here, Fraser. The point is that--"

"I understand the point perfectly well, thank you," Fraser said. He scooped up the pile of potatoes and dumped them into a bowl, moving onto the onions. "Perhaps you should consider trying to keep your voice down a little during our late-night discussions, then."

"Me? *Ha*," Ray said. Which wasn't very eloquent, maybe, but got the point across.

"I don't believe *I'm* the one in the habit of -- Oh." Fraser set his knife down and looked over at Ray at last, blinking rapidly as his eyes welled up with painful looking tears.

"Christ," Ray said, shaking his head. "You speak five languages, you can make a freaking radio out of gum, but put an onion in front of you and you're toast. Move it." He pushed Fraser out of the way and started chopping.

"Slices," Fraser said after a minute. He'd washed his hands off, and moved to the corner of the room, pressing a clean dish towel to his eyes.

Ray shook his head. "Carrie decided she doesn't like onions, she'll pick slices out. It's gross. Chop them up and she won't even notice." He finished the first onion and picked up the second, turning on the faucet to peel the skin off under the water.

"You," Fraser said slowly, "are a very aggravating man."

"That's why you love me," Ray said.

"Among the reasons," Fraser muttered from behind him. Ray heard another cabinet pop open, and Fraser said, "And what the hell have you done with the thyme?"


End file.
